Dealing With Change
by CrystalMind
Summary: The Elric Brothers were just getting adjusted to life in this world. Then, in one night, everything changed again when Al made a costly decision. Post CoS. High probability of spoilers. INDEFINITE HIATUS.
1. Life in Our World

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own FMA._

**_WARNING:_ _This story takes place after the Anime and the movie. There is a high probability of spoilers because of this. You have been warned._**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Edward Elric slammed his hand down on the blueprints that he had been studying. "This won't work," he muttered. "Why can't he see that this approach is useless?"

"Maybe he just wants it to work so badly that he refuses to see it any other way."

Edward's eyes, the color of alchemized gold, moved to his brother. The younger Elric sat on the bed, scribbling something in a notebook.

"Yeah, well this way is just going to get them blown up," Ed mumbled as he returned his gaze to the paper before him.

"Brother, why do you think that we can't use alchemy here?"

Slowly, Edward looked back up. The notebook that Al had been writing in was angled to where he had a clear view of its contents. The transmutation circles scattered across the pages ranged from the most basic of beginners' alchemy to some of incredible complexity. Al stared at his older brother, waiting for an answer.

"No matter how many arrays you draw, they won't work, Al," Ed answered with a sigh. "I do not know why."

"I didn't ask didn't ask if you knew!" Al's eyes held the faint sheen of salt water. "I asked for your thoughts!"

Startled by his brother's outburst, Ed merely looked at Al for a moment before speaking. "I have no thoughts on the matter. We knew that by coming here we would lose it. You made the choice to follow me through the Gate. There is no going back."

Al hung his head. "I miss them," he finally blurted. "I wonder, sometimes, do they miss us?"

Ed walked over and sat beside Al on the bed. "Of course they miss us," He assured his brother. His voice was meant to be cheerful but the words had hit hard. He had not found a Winry-double on this side of the Gate, which merely solidified the fact that the mechanic was irreplaceable.

He put his arm around his brother's shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. "Cheer up," he said with a smile. "We have to go convince these people that they need to change their design."

* * *

"And don't come back!" The man bellowed. Turning, he slammed the door. 

Ed sat up and rubbed the rapidly growing bruise on his head with his prosthetic right hand. "Jerk," he muttered. "That guy must be stone blind if he thinks that that design is safe!"

"Brother…" Al's somewhat hesitant voice rose from beside him. "You were kind of bold in your approach-"

"I needed to be!" Ed felt irritation well up inside him. "That guy wasn't listening to me!"

"And hitting him helped things _how_, exactly?"

Ed's face went stony. This had been happening all too often. He missed Amestris, where he had been able to get away with almost anything. He missed being the Full Metal Alchemist. He missed-

Ed broke away from these thoughts. It didn't matter how much he missed the world that he came from. He couldn't go back.

It was somewhat funny, he realized, that only just this morning he had told his brother to move forward, and now he was feeling the same homesickness. A memory from when he and Al had both arrived in this world flashed, unbidden, through his mind.

* * *

"_Another war will come."_

"_Yes."_

_Al looked at him with concern. "Is it ok for us to be involved?"_

"_We can't afford not to be. We are a part of this world now. We must move forward."_

* * *

"Brother?" Al's question brought him back to the present. "Are you ok?" 

Ed nodded in answer, and then he smiled. "I guess that I shouldn't do that anymore."

Al looked uncertain. "Are you sure that that knock to the head didn't rattle your brain?" He asked, putting his hand to his brother's forehead as if to check for a fever. Ed brushed both the hand and the question aside and got to his feet. "Let's head home," he said, "We'll let mush-brain back there figure out his own mistakes." Al followed his brother down the street.

* * *

_A monolithic structure loomed into view before Edward Elric. Covered in vines, the massive black structure seemed ancient. It was the only structure in sight, for all else was shrouded in a yellowish fog. Even so, Ed had a feeling that if the fog were to dissipate, there would be nothing else in view then either._

"_Why does this place seem so familiar?" He wondered aloud. Then his eyes registered the significance of the structure before him. "The Gate…" He breathed. As if in response to his words, the doors began to creak open. At his first glimpse of the eyes peering at him from within the gate, the elder Elric realized that this supposed 'dream' was all too real._

"_Why am I seeing this place?" He called in desperation. The black tendrils snaked out of the opening, demanding the toll to pass the gate. "This was destroyed! Why am I seeing it?" A sound akin to laughter rolled out from the Gate's black maw; filled not with joy, but with mockery. The ropelike tendrils had almost reached him now; they were going to bind him! "Why do you still exist?" He screamed, and then the black ropes tightened about his body._

* * *

Ed was jerked awake by the sound of gunshots. A woman's scream split the night. "Noa!" He cried. Angry voices barked out orders downstairs. The blonde shot to his feet, golden eyes frantically searching the room. "Alphonse!" came his panicked cry, "Al!" 

"Brother!"

His sibling's cry was all the initiative that Ed needed to bolt down the stairs. A red, flickering light made the shadows dance on the walls. _Fire!_ His mind screamed. He ran down the wooden staircase with as much speed as he dared; and into madness.

Noa lay motionless on the floor, a red stain blossoming above her heart; Al was being dragged, a gun to his head, out of the door; the flames he had glimpsed on his way down were spreading quickly. But what made him stop, what made his blood feel like ice in his veins, was the emblem that the soldiers invading their home wore; A red circle surrounding a swastika.

_Nazis!_ Ed couldn't move for a moment, and that moment was all that the soldiers needed to see him. They froze, staring at something. But what was it? The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. The automail that Winry gave him, it wasn't hidden!

By now the men had recovered from their shock. Ed finished his run down the stairs even as they moved forward on him. Dodging his clumsy grabs, he hit one of them with an uppercut. The soldier fell like a rock from the impact of steel against flesh.

Ed fought through the other men, but froze as the click of a readied gun sounded from his right. In his moment of hesitation, the man holding the gun stepped forward and pressed said weapon to Ed's temple. "By order of the government," he stated coldly, "You are under arrest."

* * *

A/N: So, yeah. The beginning of my fanfic. Hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter should be up soon. Please review if you have the time. 


	2. Arrest

**_Disclaimer: I still don't own FMA

* * *

_**

**Chapter Two**

Ed couldn't move. His mind was numbed by the man's words. "Under arrest?" He asked incredulously. "But for what?" The punch that his words earned sent him reeling.

"Brother!"

Ed sprang back to his feet. He wouldn't let these people take Al! But in a moment, the soldiers' guns were trained on him again.

"Now, now," The tone of the officer's voice was sickening. "We can't have that, can we?" He nodded to the man who held a struggling Al, and the gun was pressed a bit more firmly to the youth's head.

"Al!" Ed jerked forward, only to have his arms pulled back from behind. He winced at the pain. "You son of a-" The butt of a rifle slammed into his stomach and he doubled over.

"Let's get one thing straight," the officer's voice was callus. "Your brother's life means nothing to us. So unless you want him dead I suggest that you do as I say. Got it?"

Ed glared defiantly up at him, golden eyes flashing with rage.

A cruel smirk played at the corner of the man's mouth. "This one will be fun to break," he said. "Let's move out."

They were dragged into the street without reverence. Neighbors that they had joked with only just that morning jeered loudly, screaming out obscenities toward the brothers. At best they stood silent, watching with vindictive gazes as the young men were forced into the military truck. But both reactions to the arrest were painful.

Ed paused, searching for a single friendly face in the crowd of spectators, but even Glacier looked on without emotion. _Why do they do nothing? Why do they just stand by and watch or treat us like the enemy?_ Ed wondered. A rifle jabbed into the small of his back. "Get in the truck!" the soldier demanded.

Reluctantly, he obeyed the order and climbed into the back of the vehicle. A moment later, the engine roared to life. As the truck jerked forward, he chanced a glance back. The flaming ruins of the building that had been their home cast a reddish glow to the surrounding area, making this nightmare all the more surreal.

* * *

Eventually, they reached their destination. Tall stone barricades, barbed wire, and searchlights swinging back and forth; the sight sent chills through Edward's body.

Security was tight. It took them nearly half an hour to get through it all. Though he was sick of it all at the time, Ed would later wish that he could have remained in that truck.

Finally the back of the truck was swung open. "Get out!"

The brothers complied with a sense of dread. Although they had tried to get some rest on the way here, their mind had been far too busy. It would have helped if they had been able to talk to each other during the drive, but any attempt at communication between the two of them had been violently discouraged.

As soon as they stepped out they were confronted by another officer. "Which one of you is Edward Elric?" He demanded.

"That would be this one, Sir." The officer from earlier said as he shoved Ed roughly forward.

"So, this is the infiltrator." The man looked Ed over for a moment with mild interest before motioning to a few of the soldiers behind him. "Take him to interrogation."

The men stepped forward with venomous smiles, and Ed's heart skipped a beat. "What about my brother?" he asked in a panicked voice.

"He will be taken care of."

For some reason, that didn't comfort Ed at all. "Al!" he screamed. Desperate, he struggled to reach his brother, only to be dragged back. "Al!" He yelled again.

"Ed!"

The answering cry wrenched his heart.

"Silence!" Harsh blows rained upon the brothers. The other soldiers just watched with mild interest as the brothers were separated.

Through eyes blurred by tears, Ed could see his brother being dragged to a building. Then the door clanged shut, and his ordeal began.

* * *

Al was shoved forcefully into a small room. Almost instantaneously a bright light was turned on. Rough hands forced him to the center of the chamber.

"Why are you and your brother here?"

Al tensed at the menacing tone in the questioner's voice. "I don't understand. You brought us here," he said uncertainly.

"That's enough! No more smart comments!"

Someone slapped him hard across the face.

"Now tell me. What is your purpose in Germany?"

"Our purpose?" Al honestly had no clue what the man was getting at.

The interrogator decided to skip to the next question. "Who sent you?"

"No one sent us. I came here to be with my brother."

"Why was your brother here?"

At this Al went dead silent. He was not going to tell them about Amestris, about the Philosophers Stone, about the Gate, or about alchemy and its rules. Those things had no place in this world, and these people did not need to know about them.

His refusal to answer angered the interrogator, who nodded to one of the soldiers beside him. "I had hoped to avoid this," he said in a tone that made it obvious that he hadn't "But since you refuse to cooperate it seems I have no choice." The man he had beckoned to, tall and muscular stepped out.

Al gasped as the man came into view. He was bald except for a single lock of blonde hair sprouting from his forehead and sported a thick moustache. His chiseled features were prominent and he could have won a bodybuilding championship with little effort. His pale blue eyes were cold beneath a heavy brow. In short, he was the parallel of Alex Lois Armstrong.

In Amestris, he had been a kind of unwanted bodyguard to the Elric brothers, but it was now this same imposing figure that cracked his knuckles before Al; the same heavy hands that beat him; the same booming voice that laughed at the boy's pain.

When it was over, the interrogator's voice filled the room. "Let's try this again," he said, "Why was your brother here?"

* * *

**_I know I said Monday, but I finished ahead of schedule. Next chapter will be up in a cople days. In the meantime, please drop a reveiw._**


	3. Pain

**_Disclaimer: You've heard it twice already, but I'll say it again to make sure you get the idea. I don't own FullMetal Alchemist! _**

**Chapter Three**

Ed closed his eyes against the pain that spiked through his body at the slightest movement. Every muscle screamed, every nerve howled from the aftereffects of his latest interrogation. His automail… The former alchemist couldn't bring himself to look at the mangled extensions of metal that had once been his right arm and left leg.

Gradually, he became aware of shaky sobs coming from the other side of his dark cell. "Al?" he asked softly, but the effort it took to speak threw him into a fit of coughing. He felt something warm and wet splash against his hand. Edward held the appendage up to see what the substance was, and realized that it was blood.

A kind of sick dread knotted in his stomach at the sight, and he was not the only one who realized what it was.

"Brother…" came the strangled cry from the corner. "Why is this happening to us? What have we-" Al broke off into tears.

Edward couldn't stand this. He was so helpless here! All he could do was stand by and watch as his brother was tortured, too weak from his own ordeal to assist. Without even his alchemy! His left hand curled into a fist and Ed imagined that he was squeezing the life out of those who had harmed his brother.

Despair welled up inside him like a black hole, sucking away everything, nearly draining him of the will to live. But he knew that he had to live, at least long enough to free Al from this place.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Edward slowly dragged himself to the place where his brother lay.

The younger of the Elric brothers was in bad shape as well. Cuts and bruises covered his body, some of which still bled freely. "Brother-" he started, but Ed cut him off.

"Don't talk, save your strength," he managed. Following his own advice, Ed lay still for a moment before continuing his evaluation of his brother's injuries.

Al's right ankle was painfully swollen and of a purplish hue. Ed touched it gently, trying to get an idea of the damage. Suddenly, Al gave out a cry of pain and jerked the leg away.

Bright fireworks of pain exploded inside of Edward's head as he jumped back. He couldn't help it, he screamed. For several moments the brothers lay there, unmoving, dazed by the pain as if from a physical blow. When their heart rates and breathing had steadied somewhat, Al chanced a glance over at his brother.

"You don't have to check," he whispered, "I already know that it's broken."

Ed's eyes, which had previously been scrunched shut, cracked open slightly.

"I think that my ribs are fractured as well."

Ed's eyes closed again, and a tear forced its way past. "Anything else?" he almost feared the answer.

"I'm cut and bruised, but I don't think that anything else is broken." Al glanced back over at his brother and frowned. Although he could not see well in this darkness, he could hear fine. "What about you, Brother?" He asked. Ed's breath came in shallow gasps, and when he spoke, his voice was laced with pain.

"What about me?" Ed tried to brush the question off, but another fit of coughing took him. He rolled painfully onto his side, facing away from Al, and let the red liquid dribble out of his mouth.

Al could only stare at his brother's back, fresh tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "You can't fool me," he said finally. "I know that you're hurt, now tell me where."

The emotional suffering in his brother's voice hit Ed hard. Al was already hurting enough physically, he didn't need that kind of pain as well. "They…beat me up pretty bad," he said softly, "I took a hard hit to the head, as well."

* * *

"_What was your mission here?" Came the demand._

"_I told you, there was no mission!" Ed's angry response irked the interrogator, who struck the young man across the face. The blow sent Edward reeling, and he fell to the ground._

"_Get up, dog!"_

_The former alchemist did not respond._

"_I said get up!" The sadistic interrogator stalked over and grabbed Ed by the collar, yanking him to his feet. A shiver of white-hot pain flashed through the blonde's body, and a groan forced its way through his lips._

"_Not so tough now, are we?" The man sneered as he pulled back his fist again.

* * *

_

The interrogation had gone on for hours, and left Edward too weak to stand. The interrogator had asked him the same questions over and over, and every time he denied knowledge of what they talked about it earned him another blow.

The golden-eyed brother struggled to sit up, trying to fight against the pain, but after a few moments, he realized that the effort was useless. His head spun from the exertion, and he forced himself to lie still.

But the sensation that the world was whirling about him did not cease. His vision fuzzed out at the edges, and his brain felt like it had slowed to the point of crawling. Dimly, he was aware of his brother calling his name, telling him to stay awake, but it seemed so far awake. There was a roaring in his ears, and he knew no more.

* * *

"Ed, stay awake! Brother!" Al's screams did nothing to revive the young man before him. For a moment, panic rose within him, choking away his sanity. But, somehow, he kept just enough reason to realize that his brother wasn't dead, merely unconscious. The panic did not subside at this reassurance. For Ed to be unconscious, his wounds must be even worse than Al had thought originally. 

_What am I going to do?_ His desperate thought was hardly conscious in his frantic mind. Even as he tried to think of a way to help his brother, a trickle of blood ran down his arm, reminding him of his own injuries.

_Blood…_ Al's eyes widened as a memory entered his thoughts. Every time that the Gate had opened, it had required human sacrifice to satisfy the Equivalent Exchange, and here, judging by the stories that his brother had told, it specifically required blood.

The young man trembled as an awful plan penetrated his mind. He almost shoved it away, but then he remembered his brother. Even if he doesn't realize it, this world is destroying him. Bit by bit, it's taking him apart. The thought hardened his resolve. There was a time when Ed had done everything in his power to keep Al safe, to protect him from the horrors of the world. Now, it was time to return the favor.

Al wasn't sure how long he labored at his task; dragging himself around the small cell. Every so often he would stop and check on Ed, whose condition grew steadily worse.

The young man who had once been called the Full Metal alchemist was running a fever, and remained unconscious despite Al's best efforts. His heartbeat was a weak pulse beneath Al's fingers when he checked, and the sensation of feeling that weakly fluttering beat was all that his brother needed to reassure himself that he was doing the right thing.

It was certain that Ed would die if they remained here. At least by choosing this path they would have a slim chance of survival.

By the time he finished, Al was trembling with the pain of exertion. He knew that if the soldiers had been as hard on him as they were on his brother he probably would have died by now. The younger Elric leaned back against the stone wall. All he could do now was wait, and prepare himself for what was to come.

* * *

The door slammed open. "Let's go!" came a harsh voice from just outside. There was no answer. 

"I said come on! We don't have all day!" The guard's eyes searched the cell for the prisoner he had been sent to bring back to the interrogation chamber. At last he saw him. The young man was lying in one corner of the cell. He looked to be in pretty bad shape. The guard smirked and took a step forward.

"Careful. You'll smudge the array."

The door swung shut and the guard turned in shocked surprise, only to feel a hard impact on the back of his head. A roaring sound filled his ears, and everything went black.

* * *

Al watched the guard fall with wide eyes, then gently placed the twisted piece of metal that he had used to knock the guard out on the cold floor. His hands shook as he checked the man's pulse, he was still alive. 

In a way that made things worse, but he couldn't allow himself to think about it. He just needed to get it over with.

Running on almost pure willpower now, the youth heaved the guard inside the perimeter of the transmutation circle he had drawn with a combination of his and l's blood.

For the shortest of moments doubt flickered in his mind again. The Gate was probably gone, but…

His gaze moved to his brother. He was so still…

Al's jaw set. They would not die here! Placing his hands on the circle, he focused. At first nothing happened, but then the array began to glow. There was a bright flash, the guard vanished, and the Gate appeared.

* * *

**_Well, there's Chapter Three. I hope that you are enjoying it so far. Please let me know what you think by dropping a reveiw._**


	4. Military Discussions

**_Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own Full Metal Alchemist. If I did, the movie would have ended differantly._**

**Chapter Four**

It was a rainy day in the once prosperous Central City. Major Carth Johnson sighed as he walked through the streets of the Old District. It was here that the disaster of five years ago had struck the hardest. The area had been deemed too badly damaged to be rebuilt, and too unstable for new construction. For the most part it had been abandoned.

However, there were those factions that chose this sector as their haunt. Gangs, murderers, the list was seemingly endless. Because of this, Parliament had asked the military to take control of the area, sending out frequent patrols. Today, Carth had been the unlucky one to be chosen for this block.

A weary sigh issued from his mouth. He seemed to be having a streak of bad luck lately. He couldn't sleep, he was late for work, he lost his paperwork, and now he got sent on patrol. No, Carth was definitely not having a good day.

He turned the corner warily. This was the worst part of town. On the rooftops he could see scattered figures vanish as if into thin air at his arrival; harsh glares were directed at him from the remains of shattered windows.

The soldier dropped his hand to the loaded pistol at his side, drawing it gently from its holster. His heart raced. All he had to do was make it to the other end of the street; but suddenly that seemed a daunting task.

Almost at the end of the patrol, the Major heard the click of a safety being turned off from behind him.

"Drop the pistol and put your hands in the air."

The pistol clanked against the ground.

"Now turn around slowly."

Carth turned to find himself staring down the barrel of a rifle, confronted by a group of rough-looking boys in their teens. A thin sheen of nervous sweat appeared on his brow.

A sadistic grin appeared on Rifle Boy's face and he took a step forward, aiming the weapon at Carth's head. "We don't take kindly to the military here," he growled. "Goodnight, dog." A sneer formed on his face, but he never got the chance to pull the trigger.

A violent tremor shook the ground beneath them, sending cracks spiraling outward through the street. Seizing his chance, Carth grabbed his pistol and ran, but for some reason he stopped before reaching the end of the street. Turning back, he watched with growing horror as a pattern of blue light formed. As the configuration stabilized, his eyes grew wide. This circle, and the complex patterns within it, he had never seen their like before!

The ground shook again, and the light rose to a blinding level. The gang members, caught as they were in the middle of it all, vanished as the light reached its peak, and then the glow faded.

Carth rubbed the spots from his eyes as he stood, feeling a wet trickle coming from his brow. Then the carnage of the scene before him sunk in. The entire Old District, as far as he could see, had been decimated yet again. Cracks spider webbed through the earth, buildings had crumbled, and the road had undergone a massive upheaval.

With all of this destruction, the soldier almost missed the two young men lying where the transmutation circle had appeared. Battered and bloodied as they were, he almost passed them off as casualties when he did, but then one of them moved, pushing himself up on trembling arms.

"Please, sir," he croaked when he saw Carth, "Help us…" With that plea, the youth's strength ran out. He slumped forward, giving in to the welcome embrace of unconsciousness.

Carth ran forward, grabbing his radio from his side. Reaching the too still forms of the strangers, he pushed aside his squeamishness and checked their pulses. Both were alive, though in grave condition.

The soldier didn't hesitate. Clicking on his pocket radio, he dialed it to the military frequency. "Command, this is Major Carth Johnson reporting. We have a situation."

"_Does it have anything to do with the earthquake just now?"_

"Yes sir. We have two men in critical condition. I request permission for a medical team."

"_Are they military?"_

"No, Sir."

"_Then why is there need for a medical team?"_

Inwardly, Carth bristled at the uncaring officer. "Sir, I don't know if you'll believe me, but this is no lie. They appeared out of nowhere." There was silence on the other end for a moment.

"_Where are you located?"_

Carth gave his coordinates, and there was another short pause.

"_A team is on the way."

* * *

_

Heavy lids cracked open to reveal gray eyes. At first they were unfocused, their owner not registering the significance of the scene before them. From the white walls to the IV in his arm, it all seemed like a dream of sorts.

Then sensation returned to his battered body. A slight hiss escaped from between his clenched teeth as the aftereffects of the attempt to save his brother's life kicked in.

_Ed!_ The thought struck Al like a bolt of lightning. Where was his brother? He sat straight up in a panic, only to fall back again. His body could not yet handle such rigorous treatment. Still his eyes flashed wildly over the room. "Ed?" He called out.

"Your companion is still unconscious. My superiors thought it best to keep the two of you separated, given the seriousness of his condition."

Al found the speaker. He was a middle-ages man, dressed in the blue military uniform of Amestris. Still, he was uncertain. "Who are you?" he asked carefully. "Where am I?"

"I am Major Carth Johnson," the man replied, "And you are in Central City's military hospital. How are you feeling?"

Al barely heard the question. "So it worked," he said softly. "We made it back." The man's first statement kicked in. "Will my brother make it?" Concern filled his voice.

The man- Carth- hesitated before speaking. "I'm not a doctor-"

"How bad is he?"

Carth turned away and headed for the door. "I should tell my commanding officer that you're awake."

"Why won't you answer my question?"

The door shut.

* * *

Carth took a deep breath. It had been so hard not to tell him; to ignore the youth's frantic pleading.

"Major!"

The soldier snapped to attention. "Yes, Sir?"

Colonel Jean Havoc strode down the hallway. The past five years had not been entirely kind to him, leaving him with plenty of gray hairs. As usual, there was a cigarette in his mouth, and he had a very intent expression on his face. "I came down as soon as I heard. So they appeared out of nowhere?"

"Yes, Sir. The earthquake hit as soon as the circle appeared, and when it stopped they were lying in the middle of the street."

Havoc puzzled over this information for a moment, though a growing suspicion was forming in his mind with each piece of the puzzle he received. "Any idea who they are yet?"

Carth hesitated, "We don't really know their names yet, though a moment ago the younger referred to the older as 'Ed' and said that they were brothers."

Havoc gave a start at this, but beckoned Carth to continue.

"Their garb was foreign, and their injuries do not appear to be accidental."

The Colonel chewed his cigarette thoughtfully.

"Sir, about the older one…"

"What?"

"His left leg was once automail, though it has been severely damaged. Also, there is irrevocable evidence that his right arm was automail as well, though it has been removed."

The cigarette fell from Havoc's mouth, and his face paled. "Are you sure?"

"There is no doubt." Carth looked uncomfortably at the floor. "Sir, there's something else…"

"Yes, Major?"

"The doctors don't hold out much hope for him."

* * *

**_Well, until next chapter. Please reveiw. I need to know what I need to fix, if I need to fix anything, etc. Reveiws really are very helpful and I enjoy them._**


	5. Human Limits

**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Stop bugging me.

**Chapter Five**

Al lay in the hospital bed staring at the ceiling. He was worried. The alchemic stunt he had pulled back at the Nazi base had brought him and Ed back to Central, but now they were separated again.

The door to his room opened again, but the boy didn't turn to see who his visitor was. Instead he stared at the blank ceiling, trying not to think about Ed. He would have slept, but every time he closed his eyes he saw the bloodied, too still form of his brother. No, he couldn't sleep. Not until he knew that Ed was alright.

The visitor, apparently tired of waiting, spoke. "Who are you?"

Al's mind flashed back to a sadistic interrogator asking a similar question. His body tensed, hands gripping at the bedspread.

The visitor sighed. "Really, this could be a lot quicker if you'd just answer the question."

But there was nothing to fear here, right? Horrid memories flashed through Al's head. Was that only yesterday? What if he had said something in delirium? What if this was all some kind of set up to make him betray his brother? His knuckles whitened.

"Please, just tell me your name. I know that you and your companion have had a rough time, but I need it for medical records."

Finally, Al looked at the speaker. He was an older man, and he wore the white garments of a medical employee. Al returned his gaze back to the ceiling. He was not in a talking mood.

After a few minutes of the silent treatment, the doctor gave up and left.

_I'm not going to tell them anything,_ Al decided grimly as the door swung shut. _Not until_ _I know that my brother's ok.

* * *

_

Havoc stepped into the intensive-care section of the hospital. Walking down the hall to the ward where the elder of their two visitors was being kept, he wondered if there was a chance that this young man was actually the foul-mouthed alchemist that he remembered.

The ageing man hesitated just outside the door, Carth's words echoing in his mind. But one did not become a soldier out of fear. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

Despite Carth's warning, the sight was not what he expected. A tense atmosphere permeated the area, making everyone nervous. Various medical personal moved about, informing each other of problems as they carefully monitored their patient's condition. The blonde hair of said patient, not yet washed, was grimy with dirt and blood.

"Colonel!" A doctor drew Havoc aside. "Sir, I'm glad you came. Unfortunately, our patient is unable to speak to you at the moment."

"Do you think I can't see that?" Havoc growled.

"My apologies."

Havoc looked at the bloodied young man on the bed. "Can you tell what happened to him?'

The doctor couldn't meet the soldier's gaze. "These wounds, sir, are not the kind that you would find if he had been in a fight. They are much too precise for that."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Sir," the doctor swallowed. "It appears that he was tortured."

Havoc stared at the doctor for a moment, and then walked toward the still form on the bed. His blue eyes scrutinized the familiar face. It was older, yes, more battered than it had ever been before, yes, but he still knew it.

"What did you do this time?" He wondered aloud.

"That's what we're curious about. But his wounds are severe. We don't know when or even if he will wake up."

"I see." Havoc turned; he couldn't look at that face anymore. "Let me know if there is any change." With that passing statement, he left the room.

Wearily, the doctor turned back to his patient. In his mind, he kept replaying the expression on Col. Havoc's face when he had looked at the young man. It had held worlds of emotion, with more than a hint of recognition. Perhaps someone from the good colonel's past, then?

His lips compressed into a dark frown. Turning back to the monitors, he resumed his work. At least the patient was unconscious, floating in peaceful oblivion.

* * *

_A black night, shot through by white lightning strikes of pain, illuminated by red sparks of torment; this was the sky over a barren wasteland. The stony ground shook, sending jagged cracks through the malnourished soil, opening into deadly crevasses that sought to drag him into their unforgiving maws._

_But what he was most aware of was the pain. This all-consuming monster that drowned out everything else, the key element that made up this world of his. With an appetite greater than that of Gluttony, it ate away at every fiber of his being._

_Some have said that pain is merely a messenger; that it is what causes the pain that harms you, but he knew better. Pain itself can cause injury, for the human body can only process so much of it before it shuts down from the strain._

_It took him apart, eating not only his mind, but his body as well. His heart, weakened already, was erratic, responding to his haywire nerves. His muscles spasmed under the constant stimuli, his endocrine system pumped out pain-numbing hormones, turning its attention away from other important functions._

_Edward Elric's body was shutting down.

* * *

_

The heart monitors began to ping out a frantic alarm. Ed's body spasmed, unable to function properly under the strain. The doctors were on their feet in an instant; shouted orders filled the room as the patients heartbeat slowed.

"Get his heart rate up!"

Quick hands grabbed the experimental defibrillator, but hesitated to place the shock pads on the young man. "Sir-"

""Do whatever it takes!"

The alarm rose in pitch and volume.

"Do it!"

The shock pads were placed against the patient's chest. "Charging!"

The doctor watched the meter, "Now!"

Ed's body jerked, his heartbeat stabilizing for the barest of moments, but falling almost as quickly. The incessant alarm rag louder.

"Again!"

"They're not fully charged!"

"Just do it!"

Ed jerked beneath the impulse again, but didn't stabilize.

"We're losing him!"

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I am in fact aware of the horrific cliffy I have just left you with. I am also aware that you arer probably going to kill me after reading this next statement. This will be my last update for a while. I''m off to Europe, so I'll be gone for a month or more. Well, until then. 


	6. Brotherly Conversations

_**A/N:** Sorry it took so long. I was in Europe for three weeks, and then my schedule was jam packed. Anyway, the long awaited Chapter Six!_

_**I DON'T OWN FMA! **(Clear enough?)_

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Six**

Sweat beaded on the doctor's brow. The voices of the others in the room, franticly asking for guidance, faded into nonexistence. Even the clanging alarm seemed to retreat from his consciousness. All he could see was this young man on the bed. This man would soon die, and it would be his fault.

Sound rushed back into perception as his patient flat lined; The long, drawn out beep arousing a note of horror within him.

"Sir, _what do you want us to do_?"

The doctor's mind felt frozen, but he reflexively answered. "Shock him again!"

"Sir, his heart stopped-"

"Then restart it!"

The assistant looked at him doubtfully, but, seeing the panicked determination in the doctor's gaze, obeyed without further hesitation. The shock hit the patient for the final time before it would be too late…

…and the drone of the monitor stopped, replaced by a steady beep.

Everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. It had been far too close for comfort, but they had done it.

At that moment, a commotion erupted outside the door, and a heartbeat later a young man stumbled in. He bore a striking resemblance to the patient on the bed, though his hair was of a darker shade. With one hand, he held the back of his hospital gown shut, and with the other he supported himself on a crutch. His breath came raggedly, and he leaned heavily against the doorframe, silver-gold eyes searching the room. At last, they fell upon the patient, and he let out a startled cry of recognition. "Brother!"

A low moan was the unconscious reply, and the newcomer's eyes widened. He stumbled forward, only to have his legs give way beneath him. One of the soldiers behind him jumped forward and caught the falling youth, eliciting a hiss of pain from said patient.

At the pain induced noise, the head doctor stormed over, furious. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled as he grabbed the boy semi-gently from the hands of the soldier.

"Would you rather he took a face-plant?"

The doctor sighed. "Someone get another cot."

* * *

Several tense hours later, Ed's eyes fluttered open. _Where am I?_ He wondered as conscious thought returned to him. He was obviously not in the Nazi prison anymore, but the last thing he remembered was talking to Al- 

Al! Even as the thought entered his mind, he noticed a flicker of movement from the corner of his vision. Relief flooded him as he saw the familiar caramel-haired figure lying on a cot not to far from him.

With that off his mind, Ed surveyed his surroundings. He was in what seemed to be a hospital room, lying on his back. Everything was the same sterile white color; white walls, white sheets, and white wires hooking him up to various monitors. There was a needle going into his left arm, feeding him IV fluids. In the past, Ed might have panicked at the sight, but his years in Germany had matured him somewhat.

A faint groan came from the cot beside him, and he turned to see that his brother was awake. "Al," he asked softly, "Where are we?"

His brother's face lit up in a bright grin. "We're home," came the simplistic reply.

"Home?" Ed was confused, nothing made sense. He didn't live in a hospital.

"In Amestris. We're in Central, brother." Al's face was happy. Not just about them returning, but about something else…

"Al, how did we get here?" Ed refused to smile. Something was tickling in the back of his mind, it didn't feel quite right. This had to be a dream; some pain or drug-induced hallucination.

Al refused to answer, his face expressing a kind of shame. Not wanting to rip the IV out of his arm, Ed went to prop himself up with his right arm-

-Only to discover that it was no longer there. Ed looked under the sheets, realizing that his leg had been removed as well, then glanced at his brother. "Al, what happened? How did we get here?"

Al mumbled something in response.

"Speak up, tell me how we got here."

"I opened the Gate."

Ed's golden eyes widened, but seeing his brother's uneasiness about the subject, decided to save the conversation for later. There was something in the way Al had said it that bothered him, but it would have to wait. "So, we're here in Central?" He asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

His brother's face lit up again. "Yeah, although they kept asking me who we were."

"Did you tell them?"

Al shook his head. "I wasn't going to tell them anything until I knew you were ok."

Ed smiled. "I wonder what the Colonel– or whatever he is now- is going to say to me this time," he sighed in exasperation.

"he's certainly had plenty of time to think about it."

Both brothers laughed.

Ed leaned back against the pillows. "I can't wait to see his face…"

* * *

Outside, it had begun to rain. A lone woman, dressed in civilian garb, walked among the headstones of the military, not minding the damp. Her blonde hair moved gently in the breeze. Finally, her brown eyes rested upon the headstone that she was looking for. Reading the inscription for what seemed the millionth time, she felt droplets of water running down her face, and knew that their origin had not been the clouds. 

**Roy Mustang**

**Flame Alchemist**

**May he Rest in Peace**


	7. Suspicions

_**A/N: **I Live! Yes, it's true. I have not in fact dropped off the face of the eartg, died of a mysterious illness, or been kidnaped by hungry cannibles. The only excuse that I've got is that inspiration left me. hen it came down to writing this chapter, I blanked. I'm suddenly uncertain of my destination with this fic, and so I waited for inspiration to come._

_...And continued to waite for so long that I completely forgot about writing. This weekend, I went camping. While sitting in the trailer, I suddenly remembered this and began to write. My inspiration has returned, but it is differant than it was before. However, I DO have ideas now. Thank you all for you're paitience._

_**Disclaimer: **I do now, nor will I ever, own Fullmetal Alchemist. I can draw, yes, but not that well!_

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* * *

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**Chapter Seven**

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* * *

**

Hard blue eyes stared back at him from the rain-streaked window. His reflection was stoic, showing none of the feelings that rose up within him every time he thought of the two young men in the hospital.

…_Elric…_

Havoc's eyes drifted to the sky, where silent flashes of lightning danced with a ferocious intensity, punctuated by the rumble of angry thunder. It was like a twisted alchemic battle among the gods, the colonel thought humorlessly as a flash of blue stood out among the yellow and white.

Havoc turned his gaze from the window to regard the man standing behind him. His features, though young, held lines and creases of stress. He was clean-shaven, and his black hair was cropped short. The man could have been anyone, were it not for his eyes. Dark -a shade of blue just lighter than black- and narrow, they were the kind of eyes that held secrets. Constantly searching, storing information for later use, pools of keen intelligence that seemed to bore into your very sole; they were the eyes of a spy.

Or so one would think. In reality, the owner of those eyes was one of the top investigators in the Amestrine military. But even knowing that the man wore the blue uniform of Amestris didn't ease Havocs feelings toward the man. Raneth- that was the man's name- never forgot anything. His senses of observation were flawless, his record clean. Still, there was something off about him. People tended to give him a wide berth, and Havoc was no exception to that rule. There was simply something about him that wasn't right.

The investigator was brilliant, and it was that very brilliance that set those who knew him on edge. He never did anything unless it benefited him, or if he did, it was yet another step to achieve his goal. He wore a blank mask, and would manipulate those around him without second thoughts if it meant getting what he wanted. Added to this was the fact that he only gave what information he deemed necessary for disclosure. On one occasion, he had withheld a crucial piece of information during an investigation, resulting in the death of an innocent man's death. For some reason, the matter was covered up, and Raneth got off the hook without even a reprimand. There were mentions of blackmail, and with Raneth's abilities, Havoc found himself believing that that was the case.

The air in the office was tense. The silence had stretched for a while now, and was almost a tangible presence in the room. Finally, Havoc spoke. "I need your take on recent events."

Raneth stared back unemotionally for several seconds, taking in Havoc's carefully blank expression. The question had not come as a shock to him. Since the two visitors had appeared, he had been expecting a call to someone's office. It only stood to reason that the higher-ups would want information. The only question in the air now was just how much he would give them.

"I find it highly suspicious that two young men should appear out of nowhere in the precise location where disaster struck this city the hardest."

Havoc nodded slowly, but his eyes narrowed just a fraction. It was an expected response, one that could have come from anyone. Careful to keep his voice neutral, he spoke again. "Does anyone know who these two are?"

"There are rumors of their identities, but so far no proof." Raneth watched Havoc's eyes narrow a fraction more before continuing. "Some say that they are the Elric brothers returned from the dead, others say that they are spies from another country plotting our downfall. As has been mentioned before, there is no proof."

The man gave an innocent shrug, but Havoc knew better than to trust it. Raneth knew much more than he was saying but, as usual, it was difficult to get anything of value from him. Dealing with him was like taking part in an elaborate dance when one did not know the steps. It was nearly impossible to tell what he was thinking, and every move had to be carefully coordinated lest he tell you nothing at all.

"And what do you think?"

Although he had his answer ready, Raneth paused for a moment before speaking. "I think that the matter requires further investigation before anything can be concluded."

And there it was. Spoken by most, it would be a natural response, but spoken by this man, it was a request. For some reason, Raneth wanted to be in on this case. In the end, Havoc had no choice, and they both knew it. The colonel nodded, and spoke once more.

"In that case, consider yourself in charge of this investigation."

Raneth feigned surprise. "Thank you, sir," he said. His tone was sincere, Havoc noted, but in his eyes was the bright gleam of triumph. "I will begin immediately."

Havoc felt his carefully constructed mask begin to slip, and turned away, dismissing the investigator. Raneth smartly saluted and left the office. For several minutes after he left, Havoc stared out the window. _What are you getting from this, Raneth? What is your goal?

* * *

_

Sight returned firs, followed by a rush of sensation as his other senses came floating back from their drug-induced sleep. Ed blinked slowly in the white light of the hospital ward, willing his surrounding to snap into focus.

They didn't.

Everything around him remained annoyingly blurred to his eyes; and his ears as well, he realized. He was somewhat thankful for this latter fact, as the only sound in the room was the incessant beep of the heart monitor.

His sight and hearing were not his only senses that had been dulled, he came to understand. As he tried to shift position, he felt a spike of only slightly blunted pain course through his body; pain that undoubtedly would have been far worse were it not for the drug that had blunted his senses. And it must be a drug, or else he would not have been experiencing this strange calm. Obviously, it was doing something to his head as well.

The blonde frowned, trying to remember the circumstances of his last awakening, though he was uncertain why it seemed so important to him. He would much rather sleep, especially given how difficult the memories seemed to be to recall. His efforts paid off, though, and he remembered speaking with Al.

"…_In Amestris…"_

The fragment seemed to imply that they had made it back somehow, but he couldn't remember the rest of the conversation. He casually turned to ask his brother how they got here…

…but Al wasn't there.

For a moment Ed merely stared at the spot were he thought his brother had lain, then looked around the room to see if Al had moved. There was still no sign of his brother.

Ed was aware that he should be feeling panic right about now, but for some reason he felt perfectly calm about the circumstances. Still, he was mildly curious as to his brother's whereabouts.

A nurse stepped into the room, presumably to check the alchemist's bandages, but checked herself when she saw Ed's open eyes. An odd expression crossed her face then, and after a moment, she took a step backwards.

"Wait," Ed was surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded, but it did the job. The nurse stopped and looked at him, that strange expression still on his face.

"Where is my brother?"

"We put him in the next room. You both need quiet to recover." Something in he nurse's voice nagged at Ed, but he pushed the feeling aside. He would know if something was wrong, and the nurse's explanation made sense. Obviously Al was fine. Ed closed his eyes and tried to relax. Still, the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right persisted. He saw no reason for the feeling, as he now remembered the nurse coming In and taking Al out of the room. Al had seemed calm, even happy as he was rolled past the dark-eyed man in the doorway. No, there was nothing to worry about.

Ed shoved the feeling to the back of his mind and tried to rest. Like the nurse had said, he needed it. Al had left of his own free will. He was just being paranoid.

* * *

_**A/N:** As you can see, this story might be heading off into a slightly differant plot than I had originallty counted on. Please, I need reveiws. Let me know what you think of this idea._


	8. Awakenings

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim FMA.**

* * *

Chapter Eight**

* * *

"_Why won't he wake up?"_

"_Well... he has been through a lot. It's probably just his injuries, coupled with the stress of changing worlds."_

"_We don't know that he did. This... Fullmetal lookalike... could be nothing more than a spy."_

"_But the possibility is there."_

_A pause._

"

* * *

Gold eyes fluttered open in a sea of white. Their owner took several moment to orient himself before deciding to sit up. 

That was his first mistake.

Pain flared through his body, forcing a groan to pass through his lips, alerting the nurse to his concious state.

"Sir! Please don't move. Your injuries were rather severe."

He blinked at her in bafflement before shaking his head. "Listen, lady. I appriciate your concern, but I'm more durable than that." He moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed, only to freeze when he realized that his leg was missing. Glancing to the right, his suspicion was confirmed when he noted the loss of his right arm. _Now when did-- Oh, right._ Memory bombarded him in a series of violent waves.

He was in Amestris.

So was Al.

He had no automail.

Brilliant.

Blinking at the rush of realizations, one in particular rushed out at him. "Where's Al?" He demanded. This wasn't the same nurse that he thought he remembered, maybe he'd actually get some answers this time.

But the nurse didn't answer right away, too caught up in checking him over. "It would seem, sir, that the surgery was a success. We'll get an automail technician in here by the end of the month to help with your limbs. They were quite mutilated."

"Wait a minute, surgery?"

She looked at him suspiciously before her gaze softened. "Oh, of course you wouldn't have known. We got you in as soon as you were declared stable. The ports," she gestured toward the stumps of his missing limbs, "were quite corroded. They were causing damage in their own right. We had to extract a good deal of them."

Shock ripped through the alchemist like an icy wave. By extracting the ports, they had undone much of what had been created in the initial surgery. Which meant--

"You'll have to go through most of the surgery again."

Ed was sick to his stomach. He had endured the first time because of Al. But now, Al had his human body back. How could he handle the pain now? He clenched his jaw. _It has to be done._

The reminder of Al had brought back his first question, though. "So, lady, where's my brother? Where's Al?"

The nurse shook her head. "The boy did a number on his leg by trying to get to you, earlier. He had to have some surgery of his own. Last I heard, it looked pretty good. Doesn't seem like he'll have to replace any limbs." She looked pointedly at him. "You, on the other hand, were on death's door."

Ed brushed off her obvious displeasure, temper rising. "But where is he _now_?" he asked in irritation.

"In recovery, away from distractions. He needs rest." She stood, obviously having completed her inspection. "As do you."

With those words, she left.

* * *

Miles away, in a small village, children play in the green grass of the fields. One in particular, a young boy, smiles as he hears the phone ringing within his own home, and his mother's bellowed response. 

_**Ring! Ring! Ring!**_

"COMING! Geez, people these days..."

The brunnette shakes his head, turning his blue eyes back to the game. Around him, a few of the other children laugh. "Your mom never changes, does she Matthew?"

The boy grins. "Nope. But I'm glad. She just wouldn't be my mom if she were sad." He kicks the ball to his one of friends, and the game goes on as if nothing had happened.

Within the house, the phone drops from a blonde woman's hand.

* * *

**A/N: **I really have no excuse beyond a general lack of interest. But yesterday, as I rode the bus home, I discovered my muse, tapping me on the shoulder, with the most annoyed expression on her face. It was like she was mad at me or something! cringes away from booing audience Alright, I'm sorry. But I have returned! While this chapter is not nearly so long as I would have liked, I'm back on track. Hoping to update with a longer chapter soon. 


	9. The Life of a Mechanic

* * *

Chapter Nine

* * *

Winry wiped the sweat from her brow with a tired arm, leaving a dark streak of grease on her forehead. A satisfied smile crossed her face as she looked down at the finished piece of automail on the workbench before her. The strong steel gleamed in the light that came pouring in through the window, illuminating dust particles that danced in the beams. 

A sigh escaped through her parted lips as she gazed out on the lawn. Her five-year-old son, Matthew, was out playing with his friends again. For the briefest of moments, his brown hair caught the light, rendering the heads of both him and his friend a sun-kissed golden shade. The sight of two young boys with hair like the son sent the blonde into a kind of reverie, her eyes stinging.

The light passed, and the image of her childhood companions faded, replaced once more by Matthew and Tristan; the red rubber ball between them in perpetual motion.

From behind her came a rustle of sound, and then warm arms encircled her in a loving embrace. "Why, Mrs. Cogar, I didn't know if you'd ever step away from your work. I'd begun to be worried." The voice whispered in her ear and she laughed, leaning back against her husband. "Don't. Automail is one of my two loves."

"And the other?"

Winry laughed again, her blue eyes dancing. "You of course!" She turned, hoping to sneak a kiss, but he stepped back just out of reach. "Why you..." she started. Without further ado, she made to chase him about the room--

--Only to be interupted by the frantic ringing of the phone. The smile left William's face, her own not far behind. For a moment they just stood there, listening to it ring. William made the vaguest of gestures with his hand, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. "Go on," he murmured. "It's probably important."

"William-" She started. The phone interupted once more. "I'm COMING!" she yelled irritably. "Geez, people these days."

The blonde stalked up the stairs, jerking the phone from the reciever. "Cogar automail."

_"It used to be Rockbell."_

Winry frowned. The voice seemed familiar, if only passingly so. "That was several years ago."

_"Principle of the thing, though. Not the salutation I expected."_

The mechanic shook her head. She should know this voice, she knew she should, but the identity of the speaker remained beyond her grasp. "What do you need?" She struggled to remain polite.

_"We have a patient here who you worked with when you still went by Rockbell. He's going to need quite a bit of work."_

Suspicion flared. Who would she have treated that knew her only by that name? Who wasn't informed of her marriage to William Cogar? For some reason, a sickening feeling of dread pooled in her stomache. "Who is this person?"

_"Edward Elric."_

The phone fell from her hand, her mind gone suddenly blank. Behind her, William rushed forward. "Winry? Winry, are you okay? Answer me!"

Still in shock, she could only stare at him.

William angrily grabbed the reciever.

_"--Cogar? Mrs. Cogar, are you there?"_

"What did you say to her?" William demanded. "Why--" a faint tap on his shoulder put a sudden end to his tirade before it had properly begun. He turned to face his wife. She was still pale, as if she had seen a ghost, but she reached with trembling hand for the phone. Hesitantly, he released the object to her grasp.

"Is this a joke?" Her voice was cold, but her eyes betrayed her turmoil.

_"This is not a joke. My name is Colonel Jean Havoc. Ed was in an... accident recently. He's going to need new automail. I know that you're the only one who's really worked with him, so..."_

There was a pause on the end of the line. _"We need you to come to Central."_

Winry took a deep breath, not trusting her voice. "When?"

_"By the end of the month, if possible."_

"Alright." Her voice was hardly a whisper. With shaking hands, she replaced the phone in the cradle. "Oh my god," she murmured. "Oh my god!" With each successive repitition of the phrase the words grew louder, until at last William took his wife in his arms. Her words dissolved into meaningless sobs, wracking her body with their intensity. He held his wife's shaking body in his arms, soothing her as best he could, though he did not know the source of her pain.

For Winry, all the pieces had just fallen into place, the full realization making its impact on her like a freight train. Ed was alive. He was in the hospital. He needed his automail fixed.

The scenario was so familiar as to send her into hysterics. She found laughter mixing in amongst her sobs as her tongue loosened, spilling out words uncontrolled.

"He's alive," she found herself saying, "After all that I did to put him behind me, to forget about him, the bastard comes back!" She found anger welling up, too, intensified by the maelstrom of other emotions she was experiencing. "Why? Why is this happening now? Why is it happening at all?!" She was screaming now, but she didn't care. This was too much.

Gradually she became aware of her face against William's chest as he held her close, running his fingers through her hair as he murmured sweet nothings to soothe her.

"Hush now, Winry. It's going to be alright. Whatever it is, I'll stand with you. I'll help you through this."

Tears streaming from her eyes, Winry could only snuggle closer. "Oh, Will..."

* * *

Colonol Havoc leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. The call had been hard to make, but he'd given the girl the information. She had the right to know. Dimmly, he wondered if Ed knew that Winry was married. _No, he wouldn't,_ the man realized, _She got married after he left. He wasn't supposed to come back._

Thoughts of Edward Elric's departure invariably led to thoughts of Mustang's demise, and Havoc, tired as he was already, found himself in an exeedingly bad mood. Memories of Mustang's devotion to duty welled up in his mind. The same duty that had gotton him killed. _How could he have possibly thought to destroy such power?_ Havoc wondered. _What possessed him?_

The Colonel knew that he might never discover the answer to that question.

* * *

**_A/N:_** So, longer than the last chapter, but still not up to my goal length. Still stretching out the old writing muscles, I suppose. I'll be the first to admit there's not much action here, but this scene's been stuck in my head recently and I just couldn't get rid of it! And I'm sure you all wanted to know more about how Winry's doing. 

Thank you all for your wonderful feedback last chapter. If at all possible, please tell me what you think of this one. Let me know how I can improve, point out errors, etc.

As an apology for how long I've been gone before this, I give you a hint for the next chapter's plot. We finally learn more about Mustang's mysterious demise, and a few more hints about Raneth are revealed.


	10. Memories

_**Disclaimer:** (Applies to the last chapter as well) I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I have no hope of ever doing so. Oh well, a girl can dream, can't she...?_**

* * *

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**Chapter Ten**

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* * *

**

The rain had finally stopped, giving way to a bright and golden afternoon. However, despite what the heavens said, it still seemed to be a dreary day to Jean Havoc. To his eyes, the world seemed all too gray.

The sunlight was as false before him as the light in his office; cold, flourescent, and utterly unnappealing. Just outside the door, he could hear the clickity clack of his secretary's fingers against the typewriter keys. The sound was harsh, grating on his nerves.

Unable to take it any longer he stood, crossed the room to his door, and shut it rather firmly; blocking the sound; before returning to the window. He was aware of the unsigned papers on his desk, just as he had been aware of the larger, but no less important, stack of papers that had resided on Colonel Mustang's. Of course, Riza had kept it at a reasonably manageble level.

Riza Hawkeye.

Blonde hair. Mahogony eyes. One of the best sharpshooters the Amestrine military had ever had.

_No. Not one of the best. She was the best._

He took a long draft of his cigarette, smoke drifting up to rest among the slightly mussed locks of his aging hair.

Yes, Riza was the best. But she was gone now. She retired as soon as Roy was declared dead. He remembered the day well.

* * *

"_Riza, please, you can't do this to yourself."_

_They stood outside the hospital ward. Or rather, Riza stood. Havoc's legs had long since lost the strength to hold him._

"_He's not dead. He promised me that he would come back." Her voice was hollow. She knew the truth, but she wouldn't believe it. Not until they made her._

_The doctor stepped out, his face blank. It was the 'bad news' face. The mask that every doctor instinctively slid on before saying,_

"_I'm sorry."_

_With those words, Riza seemed to lose what little strength she had left. The woman fell to her knees, tears streaming from her mahogony eyes. "No," she sobbed. "No, he promised!"_

_Jean gently stepped forward and place his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, staggering to her feet. "Don't touch me!" Pain gave rise to anger and she whirled on the doctor. "Tell me he's not dead!"_

_The doctor made no such claim. "I'm sorry, miss. He was gone before he got here. There was nothing we could do--"_

_Riza pulled a gun. She leveled it at the doctor. "He's not dead."_

_The doctor took a step back._

_The sharpshooter's voice was cold, now. Her eyes, still shining with tears, no longer brimmed. Instead, they were filled with cold determination. "He's not dead because he promised me he'd come back. He promised me he'd be okay."_

"_Miss, please--"_

"_Shut up!" She cried. "You actually have the gall to stand there and tell me that Roy's dead?!" She took a step forward, then another. The doctor matched her pacing, but froze when she leveled the gun between his eyes. "Do you want to say that again?"_

_Now shaking in fear, the doctor couldn't respond._

"_Go on. Say it. Tell me again that he's dead." Her finger tightened on the trigger. "I swear it will be the last thing that you--"_

"_Riza!"_

_Her gaze flicked to Jean, who's cigarette lay, for once forgotten, in the rubbish bin. Her hand dropped ever so slightly._

_From behind, Armstrong disarmed her, then held her tight against her struggles. Picking her up, he carried her into the room; forced her hand to rest against the artery, feel the lack of pumping blood._

"_He's gone, Riza." Jean said from the door._

_Hawkeye collapsed into tears.

* * *

_

She'd hung around for a while, cleaned up his affairs. Havoc hadn't actually spoken to her in a couple years. At first they-- that is to say, Colonel Mustang's old crew –had tried to keep an eye on her; keep her from slipping into depression. But as the days turned to weeks, then months, then years, people had a harder time finding her, and at last they gave up.

He knew that she visited his grave from time to time. He'd seen her out there, standing in the rain. But she'd always been fairly private about her own affairs, and so he let her be.

No one knew exactly what had occurred the day that Roy Mustang died, but enough people knew bits and pieces to form a somewhat sketchy picture of the scene. From what people saw and heard, and what Riza in particular had said, it seemed that Roy had tried to destroy the Gate.

Havoc was not an alchemist, but he'd spent enough of his life around them to have a basic knowledge of how they worked. Edward and Alphonse Elric, in particular had withstood some nasty events centered around this 'Gate'. It seemed to be a fundimental principle behind alchemy.

And yet the idiot had tried to destroy it.

_Why? What had driven him to such measures?_

According to Hawkeye, it was supposed to be a joint operation. Edward would return through the Gate, destroy it there, and then Roy would deal with it over here.

Things didn't go as planned.

* * *

_The building exploded in a flare of near-blinding intensity._

"_ROY!"_

_Military personal hunted through the wrekage, an ambulance swerved through the streets, sirens blaring._

"_We found him!"_

_The cry was taken up like a mantra; people clearing the way for the medics, who rushed him to the hospital._

_It was later declared that he was dead at the scene.

* * *

_

No one knew what had gone wrong. All they knew, or cared about, was that it had. The majority of the files were held under top secret security.

Of course, certain investigators probably had plenty of access to stuff like that, Jean thought bitterly. There were days when he would give his next week's worth of cigarettes to know more than just a secondhand version of events. The actual report probably held more than ten times the amount of information he had to offer.

He took another draft from his cigarette and turned back to his desk. _Might as well get to work.

* * *

_

His plan had worked.

Alphonse still couldn't quite believe it. The entire thing-- the Nazis, the array he'd drawn, the Gate of Truth itself-- still seemed so unreal, like a dream.

Or a nightmare.

Noa was gone, too. He remembered how Ed had told him how she'd begged to go with him the first time he returned to Amestris. But he'd left her behind. This time though, she hadn't had a chance.

Alphose shuddered as he thought of what had happened at the Gate this time.

Maybe she was better off dead.

* * *

**A/N:** And whaddaya know! I updated when I said I would. Im actually quite proud of myself for that... 

(Cough) Moving on.

There you have it. The truth about Roy's Demise. Also included was some Riza angst, a depressed Havoc, and a haunted Al. Please let me know what you think. I'm working on a new chapter now.


	11. The Beginning of the End

_**Disclaimer:** I neither own, nor claim to own Fullmetal Alchemist, in whole or in part. (Not even stock) They belong to someone else, who both is in possession of a lot more money than I will ever see and is kind enough to let us poor writers play in their domain. I fully disclaim this fic and all characters herin. Nothing you recognize belongs to me._

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**Chapter Eleven**

The month passed quickly, and at last the day had come. Winry closed her suitcase gently, as if afraid that if she moved too quickly the dream would shatter. She could feel William's eyes on the back of her head, boring into her with heated concern. The man worried too much sometimes, but in this case he was right to worry. At this time tomorrow, she would find herself in New Central City, facing the man she had once loved-- or thought she had loved-- for the first time in almost eight years.

Her hands shook as she closed the latch, pushing away the memories. Not for the first time, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. A soft rustle of fabric behind her was the only warning before she was wrapped in a warm embrace.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" William's voice was pleading, nearly desperate. Over the last month, she had told him the truth about her latest client, and the reason behind her reaction to the news.

He had known that she had been involved with someone when she was younger, and he had known that the man had disappeared, or died, or some other thing of the sort. Neither of them had really expected for the man to return, however.

Winry fell back into her husband's strong arms, passing her hand across her eyes to rid them of tears. "Matthew needs you," she said softly.

"Do you need me more?" He turned her around, tilting her chin up so he could see her face. "All you have to do is say so."

Her blue eyes welled with tears, but she shook her head. "This is something that I have to do," she whispered. For a long moment, the silence hung in the air like a living thing, broken only by Winry's shaky breaths.

Then William leaned forward and captured her lips in a a sweet, desperate kiss.

* * *

Al stretched slowly, extending every muscle as the physical therapist looked on with a keen eye. He was recovering well, though he was not yet healthy by doctors' standards.

He flinched as he moved too fast; jarring his broken leg. The therapist strode forward.

"That's enough for the day. Let's go visit your brother."

Alphonse smiled, though inside his heart sank. _I'm such a monster..._

She helped him into his wheelchair, then took a damp rag. The cool moisture was welcome as it slid over his face; his neck; his back; his chest. He closed his eyes, leaning into the touch as he would have never done even a month ago. Water dripped down his spine, cooling his skin as it dried.

The therapist left for a moment, returning with a towel. This too, she ran over him, but he leaned away from this. There was no comfort in the heat of the towel, only a bitter reminder of his future.

He reached up to brush his hair-- grown shaggy in the month of neglect – out of his eyes. He had kept it well-maintained in Germany, but the hospital employees refused to cut it. He had considered returning to his old style, but upon reflection had discovered that it no longer suited him.

No, perhaps this shaggy style would suit him best. He had found Ed, so there was really no need to emulate him, but neither was he the good little brother that he had been in Germany. He was becoming his own self. _And I could never have imagined turning out like this._

He felt himself move, and glanced around to see the nurse pushing him down the hall. It seemed he was going to see Ed after all. An odd smile, somewhat sad in appearance, flickered across his features for the briefest of moments before he lapsed back into the dark mindset that had become his home.

Ed was staring out the window when they arrived. He always did that. Alphonse wondered if he saw something, or was simply immersed in his thoughts. If that was the case, then he could certainly sympathize.

Or maybe Ed was just avoiding him.

The thought chilled him; probably more than it should have, but he couldn't help it. Once born, the idea would not leave him.

Ed turned to face him, irritation plain on his face, but it cleared when he saw Al. "Hey," he said, "I hear they're going to let you go soon."

He repressed a flinch and nodded to confirm the news. Yes, he would soon be allowed to leave, but Ed would have to stay. First for the surgery, and then for the recovery. It just didn't seem fair, for some reason.

Ed seemed to be satisfied with Al's response. "Good. You deserve to get out of here." He grinned for a moment-- a false grin, or perhaps a kind of truth. He wasn't happy for himself after all, only for Alphonse. Al fought back another cringe. But Ed was speaking again. "Just make sure to visit. And maybe you could bring me something to eat. They're trying to starve me, here!"

_Some things never change._

Al laughed with his brother-- a false laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

_And others can no longer be recognized for what they once were._

He laughed at the cruelty of fate.

* * *

It was late when he left. The time with Ed had eased some of his worries. His brother was strong. He would be able to adapt. Change might traumatize the world for a time, but people could and did learn to deal with it. Some managed better than others, but that was just how that was.

The nurse wheeled him into his room and helped him into the bed. It was his last night in this hospital. His leg was really the only thing that still outwardly bothered him. Everything else was healed. He would have to wear a cast, and limp about on cruches for a time, but there was no lasting damage that the doctors could find.

Pain stabbed through his head.

The doctors knew nothing. It wouldn't be long.

* * *

The train came to a slow halt at the station in Central, leaving Winry with an odd sense of Deja Vu. How often had she made this trip? How often had Edward knocked on death's door, leaving her to fix his mangled automail?

Her's, really. Come to think of it, she wasn't certain how much he owed her.

Not that it mattered. She'd never ask him to pay it back, and he would most likely never think of doing so. It was just part of who he was.

Edward Elric: Freeloader. She snorted in contempt, then paused. No, it didn't ring true. Edward might not think of things like that offhand, but he did think about them, and he hated being in debt. She sighed, wondering how much he had changed in the years he was gone.

Al would have changed to, she realized. He was always changing. First restricted to that terrible suit of armor, then restored to his eleven-year-old body without his memories. What would so many years with Ed in that _other_ world have done to him? Would he still be the sweet little boy she remembered?

She decided right there that she hated change, and then hastily amended the thought.

She had changed, too. Drastically, if her life asd anything to go by, and she wouldn't go back for anything, or anyone.

Not even Ed.

* * *

_**AN:** Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I'd originally planned it for Thanksgiving but... flushes... I had a REALLY bad case of writer's block. Happy New Year, everyone!_

Next chapter: Probably the operation, and more Alphonse, and maybe Raneth, and... (basically, a LOT longer than this one...I hope.)


	12. Reunions

**Diclaimer:** I do not own FMA, in whole or in part. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

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**Chapter Twelve**

Havoc pulled into the station with a sigh, taking a drag of his cigarette to calm his nerves. It had been many years since he'd been in contact with the woman who was once Winry Rockbell. The last place he'd seen her was at the battle for Central. The last time he'd actually spoken to her was when the Fullmetal Alchemist was still enlisted.

He had no idea how much she'd changed, but he did know that she'd married.

_'It used to be Rockbell.'_

His own words echoed through his head, causing a grimace to cross his lined features. He still didn't know why, out of all the things to say, he'd chosen that. It was just the first thing that had popped into his mind, he decided. Simple as that.

Still, he needed to learn to watch his mouth.

He ran a hand through his graying hair as he stepped out of the government-owned vehicle, blue eyes scanning the station for that distinctive head of blond hair.

She was there; looking around the station with eyes clouded by memory. For the briefest of moments, Havoc wondered at her reminiscence, but he shook off the thought. There were more important things to worry about right now, and Ed was at the top of the list.

"Mrs. Cogar?"

She jumped; startled out of her thoughts, and turned to face him. "Yes. Are you Colonel Jean Havoc?" She seemed slightly wary, which was understandable, considering some of her previous experiences in Central.

"I am. Please, the car is waiting." He motioned her toward the idling transport.

He followed her to the car, sliding into the driver's seat after she was settled. They drove for a few minutes in silence, neither offering nor requesting information, before the women spoke.

"How is he? Ed, I mean." She asked.

"He's been better," Havoc admitted after a moment. He paused, "His mouth has certainly gotten cleaner over the years. It's the younger one, Alphonse, that's got me worried, actually."

Winry frowned in concern, "How so?"

"It's probably nothing. He's always been the quieter one, after all, even when he went around in that huge suit of armor--" Seeing the look that she was giving him he sighed. "He just seems off, somehow. Like hes not really putting his heart into anything. Now, I haven't conversed with either of them much myself, but between the conversations that I have had and the reports of the nurses, it's made me concerned."

Winry said nothing at first, lost in her own contemplations, and the silence stretched for nearly a minute before she spoke once more. "The trip through the Gate would have been stressful... and I don't know their circumstances. Maybe something happened..." She trailed off. "You're right. It's probably nothing."

Havoc looked at her. She was lying, and so was he. Deep down, they both knew that something was deeply wrong, but neither wanted to admit it. He turned back the the road.

The remainder of the drive was solemn, as if a taboo topic had somehow been breached. Eventually they reached Winry's hotel.

"I'll pick you up in the morning at nine o'clock." Havoc said without preamble. "We'll be traveling directly to the hospital from there, so you'll need to be ready. We'll have everything set up when you arrive." He knew immediately that switching back to an impersonal manner was not the best way to deal with the situation, but it was too late to take back his words.

"Thank you," Winry said stiffly. "I'll be ready."

Havoc lingered for a moment, but Winry said nothing more. Turning, he reentered the vehicle and drove off.

It was a long drive home.

* * *

Winry watched him go with a heavy heart. She had already been dreading her reunion with the Elric brothers, but after hearing what Havoc had to say, her stomach seemed to have turned to lead.

Something was wrong with Al; it was no use trying to convince herself otherwise.

She fumbled with her room key before slipping it into the lock; opening the door to reveal a bare room.

And if something was wrong with Al, then it probably had something to do with Ed.

She closed the door behind her.

* * *

Ed was woken the next morning to a great hustle. The white walls, long since grown monotonuous, were blocked from his view by the nurse who was fumbling with his IV. After she had gotten it situated, she turned and smiled at him.

It occurred to him that he didn't know her name. But that was fine. He probably wouldn't be here much longer.

She was ridiculously happy; always smiling or laughing. It drove him up the wall. But he'd had some bad encounters with doctor in the past, and he'd found that they were generally nicer if you followed directions.

Hence why he was smiling and laughing along with her at a joke that really hadn't been all that funny.

She wheeled him down the hall, talking in her chirpy voice about how this was going to be the last surgery before he was released. For some reason she seemed to think he was happy about the prospect.

She was only half wrong. Certainly, he was happy about the prospect of getting out of the stipid hospital, but most definitely was _not_ happy about the surgery or the recovery time afterwards, and he was painfully aware of how long that would be.

And then there would be the debriefing. While he wasn't technically part of the Amestrine military anymore, he would still need to report 'vital intelligence' to the proper sources.

They had already tried to get someone in here to talk to him. _What was it? Randall? Ranek? No... Raneth! That was it!_ Smiling slightly at his 'fantastic' powers of recall, his face smoothed out when he remembered the occasion.

He'd flat-out refused the 'invitation' to share his experiences in the Machine World with the investigator. It hadn't been long after he'd flatlined, and the memories were too raw, still. Every question ripped open the wounds, and when he'd thought about Al, and how he was probably being put through more of the same, he'd snapped.

Somehow, he'd managed to extract a written and filed promise that neither he nor his brother would be questioned until after their release from the hospital.

Al would be released later today, he remembered. The prospect was not a cheery one. He scowled at the rememberance of Raneth's calculating features. No, not a cheery prospect at all.

* * *

"Well, Mr. Elric, you're free to go."

Alphonse stood at the discharge desk in Central's hospital. His fingers played unconsiously with the patient's band on his wrist, twisting and tugging at it. The nurse checked him out of the computer system with a smile.

Alphonse was painfully aware of just how much information that simple system now held about him. His name, physical details, portrait, allergies and condition were all held in that little file, along with whatever else the military knew about him.

During their time in the Machine World, Ed had kept them moving. Always moving, always wary of evidence left behind. Over the years, though, he'd started to relax. They had slowly accepted their place in that world; slowly built identities.

All of it was a wasted effort, now.

Alphonse still wasn't sure how or why they'd been arrested. And what had happened afterwards...

_**Pain.**_

Alphonse went ridged for a moment, but only a moment. Remembered pain was locked tightly away, its echoes rapidly sealed. Memories of an Armstrong lookalike were covered up. He wasn't ready to remember that, wasn't ready to remember any of it.

So he wouldn't.

The nurse at the desk han't noted anything unusual, wrapped up as she was in filing the papers. It was a good thing, too. He'd hate to have to explain why they hadn't found any lasting damage when it was obvious that it existed.

The nurse-- finished now, he assumed –looked up with a smile, and he realized that she _had_ spoken, and he _was_ free to go. He returned her overly overly joyous smile with a cheerless one of his own. "Thank you," he said softly.

Turning, he made his way toward the door, brushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes and making a detached note of the time.

_...9:15_...

He brushed past a tall blonde, about Ed's age, on his way to the door. As he reached it, the tail end of the cheerful nurse's conversation reached his ears.

"Ah, Mrs. Cogar. You're here for the surgery, yes?"

"Yes. I'd like to see the patient beforehand; some orientation to take care of, and the like."

Al froze. Blonde hair, and that voice... he started to turn back, if only to see her, but the rational part of his brain caught up before he did. _No, the nurse called her Mrs. Cogar. It must be my imagination._

Shaking his head, he strolled out into the street.

* * *

Winry brushed her hair out of her eyes as she walked to the desk for check in.

"Name?" The abnormally cheerful nurse asked.

"Winry Cogar," She responded.

"Ah, Mrs. Cogar. You're here for the surgery, yes?"

"Yes. I'd like to see the patient beforehand; some orientation to take care of, and the like."

The nurse seemed to accept this, and directed her to the room where one Edward Elric was being prepared for surgery. The operating room had already been prepped, the doctors told her, so she would have between five and ten minutes with the patient.

With a deep breath to calm her nerves, Winry stepped into the room.

* * *

Edward continued with his false smiles through much of the early morning, but as nine o'clock came and went, he found curiosity sinking her deadly claws into his mind. Eventually, he could hold it in no longer. Taking a s

"So who's operating?"

The nurse paused, her cheerful countenance freezing for the barest of moments before she responded. "A renowned mechanic by the name of Cogar."

Puzzled by the nurse's reaction, Edward wisely decided not to probe further, and turned his attention to the unfamiliar name.

No, he decided after a moment, he'd definitely never heard that name before in association with automail. He'd have to be careful, then. This mechanic was an unknown.

Ed hated surprises.

But as he turned to face the opening door, the scowl on his face was replaced with utter shock.

Rolling through him like a storm-driven wave, the crash of the glass in his hand slipping to the floor was deafening in the sudden silence.

* * *

He hadn't changed.

Somehow, Winry had thought he would. She was all ready to face some otherworldly, physically changed Ed.

But this... she wasn't sure she could face.

His hair was still that metallic blond, and his eyes were still amber. Those same molten eyes that she had gazed into so many years ago were, at the moment, wide with shock.

"...Winry?" He croaked. She could see something, something behind his eyes that was off. But a light of hope was kindled within those golden lakes. She could only nod.

She could see the exact moment that he relised the truth. That light in his eyes went out, replaced by a bitter cold, and suddenly, she didn't want to talk to him. Not now. Not as a friend.

When she had first entered this building, she was prepared for joyful reunion, but not now. Right now, she was just an automail mechanic, and she was here to put him through some of the worst pain of his life.

Again.

His accusing stare bored into her, daring her to explain. So she didn't. Instead, she sat down and began to speak.

"My name is Winry Cogar, Mr. Elric. I'll be operating on you today--"

"Cut the crap, Winry."

Ed cut her off before she could finish. "I know what the surgery entails. Heck, I've been through it once before already, and you were there. So don't treat me like I don't know what's going to happen. Let's just get it over with."

Winry straightened. "If that's how you feel, Ed."

And with that, she turned to leave. "Operation's in five minutes. We'll talk afterward."

She walked out.

* * *

_**A/N:** Alright, I know that I said I'd do the surgery this chapter, but I couldn't quite get to it. On the plus side, this chapter is nearly twice as long as any of the previous chapters! does a happy dance I have the next chapter plotted out, so more chapters aren't far away._

Review, please!


	13. Return to Civilian Life

**Disclaimer:** _I disclaim._**

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**Chapter 13**

Madness.

Edward glanced nervously at the pristine walls around him. He was lying on a plain, steel table in a sterile, white room, waiting for the mechanic--_Winry!_-- to walk in and start the procedure. It was enough to drive him mad.

It was driving him mad.

The alchemist shook his bangs out of his eyes and glanced at the clock, wondering if time moved this slow for everyone else in his position. It wasn't even the whiteness of the room that bothered him. Really, it was the endless _waiting_ for the procedure to begin. He hadn't had to deal with this the last time he'd had the procedure. Pinako had gotten him in and out as soon as possible.

Al... that was another thought to consider. Something was obviously wrong. Ed had known it from the moment that his brother had told him of his actions, but Al wouldn't expand more than he already had. Ed hadn't pushed him, though. For some reason, he got the impression that Al's pain was far from physical. Whatever the Gate's price had been this time, it was high, and certainly more than the blood used to draw the array.

He glanced at the clock again. Time had passed, and the operation was now running two minutes behind.

It would seem that Winry was still upset with him, then.

With that thought, the door opened. It didn't creak. For some reason he'd thought it would.

He raised his eyes to meet Winry's blue gaze, and found that he couldn't speak. There was so much that he _wanted_ to say, but or some reason he couldn't. He wanted to demand answers. He wanted to ask her if everything had been a lie. He wanted to hold her close and apologize for his too harsh words. He could do none of these things.

Winry's eyes showed that she was still in great pain. His words and actions had cut her deep, it seemed. Recalling his behavior of seven minutes previous, he couldn't blame her. Still, he found himself silently begging for forgiveness. Just one word...

She brushed by him and started to set up her equipment.

The OR nurses --scrubbed out and masked just as Winry was-- came in moments later. They strapped him to the table and inserted the IV again. Then his vitals were checked, and one of the doctors nodded to Winry. She had already set up her tools, so she was ready when she received the nod.

He gritted his teeth as she moved forward, staring up at the ceiling. His pulse pounded wildly in his ears as he fought to relax, fingers gripping the sheet until the knuckles turned white.

Pain like a thousand flaming daggers assaulted his senses.

They were driving into him mercilessly. He couldn't fight it. _Verdammt_! He hadn't remembered how much it hurt! He couldn't think. He couldn't do anything but lie there and struggle against the pain.

Edward felt his breathing grow increasingly ragged as he fought back his cries. His thoughts had long since dissolved in the blinding whirl of agony. A coppery taste filled his mouth.

Blood.

He had bitten through his lip.

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think past the coppery taste in his mouth and the agony where his ports where being installed. He didn't even have the luxery of losing consiousness, lest the ports fail to wire into his nervous system.

A strangled whimper forced its way past his lips.

And then he screamed.

He choked it off, refusing to believe he had cried out in the first place, but inside he knew that he had screamed, and the damage was done. He felt hesitation stay one of the doctor's hands and managed a squint-eyed glare in his general direction. _Skies above! Would it never end?!_ His thoughts degraded to mindless swearing once more, and he choked on the blood in his mouth before losing himself again to the hellfire pain of surgery and his war against it.

* * *

Al stepped into a small cafe shortly after leaving the hospital. He ordered quickly. He seated himself beside the window, at a table meant for two, to wait for his coffee.

It didn't take long. For a minute or two he simply stared into the cup, as if attempting to divine his future. Noa had talked about the practice from time to time. But, whether it was the absence of tea leaves or the uselessness of the technique itself, the drink yeilded no answers.

Eventually the beverage was cool enough to drink, and he sipped it gently. Looking out the window, he saw the people passing by, so wrapped up in themselves and their own lives that they didn't see the crumbling foundations of the architecture that they praised; the trash blowing down the alleys.

It was a pitiful sight.

A faint buzzing in his temples warned him of the imminent headache. With a sigh he stood, downing the dregs of his coffee in a single draught, and placed the cup on the counter on his way out the door.

He made it to his hotel room before collapsing. Wave upon wave of pain washed over his body, sending him to the realms of unconciousness.

He woke before the Gate of Truth, staring into a pair of eyes so like his own, and yet so different. Their hazel hue was cold, and the voice, when it came, was like needles in scratching across his brain, carving their message into the canvas of his mind.

_It's almost time._

"I know."

_Will you hold to our bargain?_

"I doubt that you would give me the option."

A feral grin slid over the cruel face of his counterpart.

_Then all is well._

And Alphonse slid into oblivion.

* * *

Awareness returned slowly. His, scrunched tightly shut against the agony of having his nerves connected to automail ports only moments before, opened in a feverish face to stare at the ceiling. Sweat stained his features, and his golden eyes were glazed in lingering pain. He knew from experience that it would take nearly a day for the pain to fade.

The rest of his senses finished their return from the world of agony that Edward had only just left behind. There was a peculiar buzzing around his knee and shoulder, caused by the nerves' adjustment to their newest course. In time, he would grow used to the sensation of having automail again, but the road there would be difficult.

He sighed and glanced around the room. Apparently he had lost more time in pain than he had originally believed, for the room was empty. The door was open, though, and Ed could hear voices filtering in from the hallway.

"I really should go know. My job is done."

A scoff.

"Really, Mrs. Cogar. I expected better of a mechanic as well known as you. There's still orientation to take care of, and paperwork to file, and he'll need to have someone fine tune the machines to optimal configuration with his physical state--" The second voice would have continued, but the first cut her off with a sigh.

"Surely someone else can do it."

"But it's your own design! Only you can configure it to optimal function!"

The first voice sighed again. "Fine. I'll configure the automail, but then I'm leaving. I can file paperwork from home."

A cold hand clenched Edward's heart. Winry sounded so cold, so distant. Had she become so unhappy because he left her behind?

...Or because he had returned?

* * *

Alphonse Elric had procured a room in a hotel near the borders of the rubble that comprised the Old City. It was easy enough to discover. The young man certainly hadn't seemed concerned about covering his tracks. In fact, he was almost painfully easy to follow.

Raneth frowned. That last statement may as well have been literal, from the way that the younger Elric brother had returned to the room. He had quite obviously been ill somehow, but in all his surveilance of the suspicious world-jumper he not seen anything to cause such an effect.

A rather large part of him wanted to shrug off the incident as a side effect of newly-healed injuries, but he knew better. He would not decieve himself. There was something very wrong with the situation before him, and one or the other of the Elrics held all the answers to his questions.

His fists clenched around his binoculars. Damn the paperwork! Every time he tried to do his job there was another piece of red tape in his way. It was almost as if command was trying to... hinder him.

Raneth lowered his binoculars; his fists were slack. Was it really possible? _Where there's smoke, there's a good chance that there's fire._ His face went stony. Right then and there, Raneth resolved to sqeeze as much information out of the Elric brothers as he possibly could, whether by legal means or not.

* * *

_**AN:**Yes, I realize that it's been an eternity since I updated. I make no apologies and no excuses. But I do have good news: SCHOOL'S OUT!! This means more frequent updates... and maybe longer chapters now that I have time. I should 'see' you guys in a week or so. Please R&R, as this chapter was writen in 100 word segments over the last six months... :winces:_


	14. Confrontation

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA. Honestly, I'm only 16. Do you think I could draw that well when it started? No. On that note, I don't think I can draw all that well now..._

**Warnings:**_Some language in this chapter. You are warned. Don't yell at me about it._

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****Chapter Fourteen**

Edward sat silently in his white-sheeted bed, listening to the monotonous ticking of the clock; the dragging by of each single second. His anger had long since faded, replaced by pain, both physical and emotional. Winry had moved on; had married someone else.

His breath still caught at the sight of her, the cold pain of betrayal stabbing deep into his heart every time he heard her new name. It would take a long time to fade, but it eventually would. He knew because he had already dealt with this pain; shoved it away into the Gate's clutches. He must have, for this pain had never struck him quite like this before.

Of course she would have married. Why would she have done otherwise? He wasn't there, after all. Even if he had been there, would he have made a move? He didn't know if he would have. He hadn't before. The alchemist passed a hand over his eyes, pondering the source of his pain. Perhaps it was because she hadn't married while Al was still there, even when he wasn't. Was it because of Al's resemblance to him that she hadn't given herself away sooner? Or was there another reason that she had waited until he was supposedly gone without a way to return?

He didn't know. He probably never would, but couldn't he ask?

The stupidity of such a decision was blatent. The tensions between Winry and he were high enough that his words might make what was already a poor situation worse. The chances that the situation could get better were slim, and yet he couldn't picture the situation as being much worse than it already was.

After a time the door slid silently open, revealing blonde hair about a beautiful face. He forced himself to meet the blue gaze he knew he would find-

-and found it shuttered against him. He looked down at the sheets, his real hand fisting in the white cloth while she walked closer. The words were caught in his throat.

She worked in relative silence, broken only by his harsh breath through clenched teeth while the nerves were aligned to perfection. The tension in the air made it even harder to breath slowly; to prepare himself for the phrasing of his apology and request. Still, it was not until the end of the adjustments, when her tools were packed away and she was standing to leave, that he spoke.

"Why?" The word tore itself from his throat before he could stop it, then hung there in the air, tolling like the final ring of the death bell. The room went still.

"_Why?_" Her voice was deceptively soft. "You ask _why_?" Blue eyes, dark with fury, caught him in their stare. He was trapped in a binding of his own unspoken words. Her eyes flashed. "Because he was _there_!" Edward flinched. "You never thought of that, did you? Do you have any idea what it was like to lose you, and then think I'd gotten you back only to have you rip yourself away _again_?"

A cold feeling settled in Ed's stomach. He had known that she was angry, but the sheer vehmenence that Winry was showing stunned him. The pain in her eyes, in her voice, in her entire manner spoke of memories that surfaced from shallow graves, haunting her every moment with him. Nausea, brought on by that dreaded combination of horrified shock and anger churned in his stomach. "Winry--" he started, but the blonde mechanic would not be deterred.

"Of course you don't! How could you possibly understand what I felt?"

_I can't_. He wanted to say. _I can't understand what you went through. I didn't consider it. I buried my feelings too deep._

There was a sudden silence, and Ed's head jerked up from where he had been staring at his hands, fearful that he had spoken aloud. His fears were unfounded. Winry stood, her face shadowed, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

It took a moment for Ed to realize that she was actually waiting for an answer, but the words he cast for so desperately rang false in his mind. He could only sit there in silence, the words aching to burst free, but catching on some unseen barrier.

Winry's shoulders shook with restrained sobs. "Please," she cried, "Please answer me." Edward felt his lips tremble ever so slightly. _Let me speak. Let me tell her everything_. He pleaded with whatever curse of his body restrained him, but nothing passed his lips, sealed by an overwhelming torrent of emotion.

And when the tears finally fell from Winry's eyes, leaking from beneath her eyelashes, he felt the trambling of his lips cease as the words fell to become a leaden weight in his stomach, a forboding of the disaster to come. "Nothing?" Her voice trembled as she struggled to restrain herself, "Nothing to say at all?"

_Winry, please--_

"No apology? No explanation for leaving? No explanation for coming back?" Her voice, once a shout, had dropped to a mere whisper.

_I'm sorry--_

"Edward Elric you _bastard_! You don't even have the guts to talk to me?"

The nausea intensified. Why couldn't he speak? Why was he so suddenly speechless in the face of her wrath?

She stood for a moment in the doorway, shaking under the force of her anger and grief, before spinning and fleeing the ward.

Edward clenched his fists, staring at his hands. "Winry..."

He had finally spoken, but she was no longer there to hear.

* * *

He was released two days later. After Winry left that day he had heard nothing of "Mrs. Cogar". For some reason, that bugged him more than anything else he had come across thus far. He didn't know if it was because he had yet to make amends with her, or because there no longer seemed to be a place in her life for him anymore, but his stomach twisted everytime the blonde mechanic entered his thoughts. Even now, the rapidly familiarizing nausea gripped him as he remembered their last words to each other.

Standing at the checkout desk, he was mostly silent while the nurse chattered on mindlessly. Really, the people they hired these days. After cutting off her torrent of words he managed to ask after his brother, discovering that Al had left a note for him with the location of the motel they would be staying at for the time being.

A bitter smile crossed his face when he opened the letter. It was coded, the same way that all of their communications in the Machine World had been, especially in Germany. He smiled at the mix of alchemical symbols and seemingly random doodles along with a teenager's bad poetry. To his credit, Al had used an older code, not the one that they had used most recently. After all, the latter had obviously been broken, so it stood to reason that a switch with an unbroken code would have to be made.

His brother was staying in a cheap motel near Old Central. Ed didn't mind so much. If anything, he was surprised by the decision. But it was rooted in practicality, he decided, not sentiment. Not many people would want to stay there, after all. Less people meant less questions. He frowned. It could also mean that what questions there were would be sharper. They would have to keep a low profile.

He strode out into the cool air of late afternoon. The streets were filled with the bustle of people shopping, walking, and generally going about their buisiness. Some things didn't change, no matter what world you were in.

The hospital was a fairly new construction, as things went, meaning that it was a fair distance from Old Central. Ed winced slightly at the calculated distance. He could have walked, but not in his condition. While he had been released from the hospital, he was by no means in peak condition. He would have to hire a taxi.

He only just reached the sidewalk when a dark colored car pulled up to the curb. The driver's window rolled down, revealing an unfamiliar man in an Amestrine military uniform. "Edward Elric? You're going to have to come with me."

Edward frowned. The man was in uniform, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

The soldier passed a hand over his eyes in frustration. "Listen, kid-" Ed twitched, "-you've caused enough trouble already with the brass. If it makes you feel better, my name is Lieutenant Carth Porter. Now get in the car, already. We're late for your debriefing."

Edward hesitated for only a moment longer. The soldier's frustration was real, and even in his current state the alchemist would be a decent opponent. Beyond that,he _had_ forgotten about the debriefing that the military would undoubtably give him, even if his commision had long since run out. He opened the door and slid into the back seat.

The trip wasn't far, but traffic was quite tricky. Carth remained mostly silent for the trip, with the exception of a few muttered curses now and then when traffic turned against him, but Edward had heard far worse in his years with the military. Still, the man kept stealing glances into the rear view mirror at his passenger, and by the time they reached their destination the alchemist was wound tighter than a spring. Finally, he could take it no more.

"What?" He snapped, "Just spit it out, already."

Carth's eyes snapped back onto the road. "It's nothing, sir. I apologise for staring, sir."

"Bullshit. What's going on?" Ed glared at the driver as they came to a stop.

Carth rested his hands on the wheel for a moment. "I'm just glad to see you recovered, sir. I heard that you were in pretty bad shape. It's amazing what the doctors can do these days, isn't it?"

Despite having the distinct impression that he wasn't getting the whole truth from the soldier, the alchemist was forced to let it go. He was already late, and he didn't have the time for an argument right now. With a sigh, he stepped out of the vehicle. "Yeah, it is," he said in response to the soldier's question. He turned and walked up the stone steps to the current military headquarters in Central.

Nothing was familiar. This building was not decorated as the last one had been. There were no stone gargoyles or military heroes standing in immortal guardianship over the current generals and Fuhrer. Rather, it was plain. Bare stone walls gave way to more common materials as he moved out of the guest corridors to his debriefing room. _A facade of might over a fallen power,_ Edward mused. It certainly served its purpose, though, however mislaid that purpose was.

The alchemist made his way into the debriefing room. It was dark. He supposed it was to hide the faces of the officers. He had just returned after a prolonged absence, after all, and the last time that the Amestrine military had dealt with the Machine World was under circumstances of war. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit snubbed by the reception.

The debriefing itself felt a bit more like an interrogation, but only in the sense that the questions were never ending. The examiners wanted every detail. They wanted to know about military might; who was in power, how large was the army, etcetera. They wanted to know about internal strife, political regimes, and what he had done to hinder their enemies. Their thinly veiled demands for information were disapointed. Edward revealed little.

He refused to tell them anything about the bombs and technological capabilities of the nations in which he had resided, lest they be put to an even fouler use by his own people. He refused to tell them numbers that he did not know. He was forced to admit that he had done his best to stay _out_ of the world's politics, and thus had neither aided nor hindered his country in any way.

But he did tell them about the camps, and he shared many of his experiences as he fled from German law. He tried to keep Al out of it as much as possible, but they wanted to know about him as well, and his younger brother had not been nearly so quiet as he.

Despite his homesickness, or perhaps because of it, Al had changed in the Machine World. His previous interest in Alchemy had blossomed into near obsession. He had pestered Ed constantly for information that he had either never learned or simply hadn't remembered yet, and filled dozens of sketchbooks with alchemic arrays. Ed found himself desperately hoping that the sketches had burned with the house; that the Germans had not found them or, failing that, that whoever did find them dismissed them as a child's fancies.

In a way, that was exactly what they were. Alphonse had been most intrigued with finding a way to use alchemy in the Machine World in the same way that it was used in Amestris. Ed had not actively encouraged the pursuit, but he had not hindered it, either. When Al had asked for input he had given it, though always in a 'keep dreaming' sort of manner. As far as Ed was concerned, Alchemy in the Machine World was an impossibility, but it kept Al from changing too much, and helped to ease both of their homesickness.

All of this he concealed from the council of officers, despite their questions. But it seemed that Al's dreamed must not have been impossible, after all, because he _was_ standing there both answering and dodging questions in a situation far too real to be anything but. These experiences of the last month since he and Al had first appeared here again, from the depths of prison, were like nothing he had ever dared to hope was possible. Never in his wildest dreams-- or nightmares –had he imagined this occuring. And because of that he knew that Alchemy must have worked somehow.

He just didn't know how, and that was the problem.

"How and why did you return here?"

The question was just hanging there, waiting for an answer.

He didn't have one.

His silence must have disturbed the council somewhat, because they repeated the question. Twice.

And finally, he was forced to make the admission. "I don't know." And suddenly he wondered just what it was that Al had done.

* * *

_**AN: **Some of you will be pleased to know that this is my longest chapter yet! I'm planning to continue to update on Wednesdays. The goal is to finish this story before school starts again. So... see you June 4th!_


	15. Fallen

_**Disclaimer:** Don't own, never will. Not making any money off of this._

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

Edward stepped into the rapidly cooling air of dusk with a sigh. The rest of the debriefing had not gone well. His inability to explain the arrival of both himself and his brother had not been well received, and had brought a fair amount of suspicion down on them both.

He looked at the fading colors of the sky. When he had arrived at Central Headquarters it had been late morning, and now the sun had already set. Lunch had been 'light', which must have been a pseudonym for a starvation diet, he mused as his stomach growled.

The alchemist's brows knit together as he noted that the dark, military commissioned car that he had arrived in was waiting in front of the building. The driver, Carth, sat inside with the window down, motioning Ed over. With some hesitance, the alchemist descended the steps to meet the vehicle.

"So," Carth said, "Where to now?"

Ed's skills in subtlety were nil. "Why are you still here?"

"Oh, I haven't been here the entire time. I drove other people earlier. You just happen to be the guy I'm supposed to be driving right now."

Ed sighed in exasperation before getting in the car. He gave the lieutenant the address and leaned back, taking some comfort in being permitted to actually sit.

"Long day?" The driver enquired innocently.

"Yeah."

They drove in silence.

* * *

The motel was small and out of the way. It seemed like the sort of place that one would generally avoid, whether because of its proximity to Old Central or because of whatever reputation it had.

It was perfect, which was probably why Al had chosen it.

It was also full of potentially shady characters, which is why Ed chose to proceed with caution.

He had asked Carth to drop him off a couple blocks from the actual address for a couple of reasons. First, because a person on foot attracted less attention in an area like this than an obviously military car, and second, because showing up in a car showed money that he didn't have, and therefore made him a target for characters he would prefer to remain unnoticed by.

Entering the building's office, he found it to be cheap, but much nicer than he had anticipated. It was sparsely decorated, but clean. He inhaled slightly through his nose, and was pleased to find the air free of tobacco smoke. In the past when he and Al had frequented establishments like this one they had been unpleasantly surprised to find a number of areas filled with the foul miasma. Thankfully, it seemed that this was not one such place.

Ed walked to the front desk, brushing his blond bangs from his eyes. Coming to a stop, he waited for the attendant to look up. Al had given him the location, but not the room number. Once he had gotten the information from the woman he moved on to find the door.

Down the side of the building he walked, counting doors as he went. After only a cursory search he found the door.

Room 236 was locked. Ed ran a hand through his hair, pushing back his bangs to look at the sky. The sun had set, but the stars had not yet shown themselves as a sign of night. Suddenly weary, he rapped on the door. There was not an immediate answer. After two more tries Ed was beginning to get worried, but Al answered just before the older alchemist broke down the door.

"Sorry," Al said with a guilty grin, "I was working."

Ed frowned, taking in his brother's appearance. The younger alchemist was pale, and his features were drawn. "Are you alright?" he asked in concern. Alphonse gained a slightly sheepish grin, "I'll be fine. I've just been working harder than usual."

Ed's eyes narrowed in vague disbelief, but he accepted the excuse. Following Alphonse back into the room, Ed found himself even more worried. The room was dim and cluttered with papers. There was no visible surface area that was left bare of covering. The bed, the floor, and the nightstand were all overflowing with sheets of writing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ed could hear his brother chattering away, but he paid no heed. The papers on the desk looked familiar for some reason.

He stooped to pick one up and held it to the light from the still-open doorway so that he could read it. His frown deepened. It was Al's handwriting on the page, but the content was not his brother's style. Various phrases seemed to leap off the page, searing into his retinas.

"_...the myth of equivalent exchange..."_

"_...true alchemy..."_

"_...the souls of the dead..."_

"_...bypassing the Gate's demands..."_

A shiver of fear raced down his spine. What _was_ this? "Al," he said seriously, cutting off his brother's too-cheerful chatter. "What is this?"

Al glanced over, alerted by the harsh tone of his brother's voice, saw the page in Ed's hand, and froze. The carefree grin on Al's face frosted over, instantly becoming a hard mask before falling away as if it had never been. "Just a few ideas..."

"Ideas?" Ed's face was pale with rage and fear, "this is-- this is madness!" The golden-eyed alchemist was lost for words. What his brother had written went against everything they had ever been taught. It went against all of Izumi's warnings, all of her rules.

Al fell back defensively, his own eyes blazing. "Relax, Brother! I'm not going to do anything stupid. I've been trying to rewrite my journal from the machine world, is all. Somewhere around here is the counterargument..." The younger brother turned away and started shuffling through papers, possibly to find the missing notes.

Ed, still shaking with a slowly pasing horror, narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "So it was just a theory exercise? Nothing more?"

Al's response was glacial. "Of course. I'm not so stupid as to actually try any of that. Like you said, they're mad ideas." The younger alchemist sighed. "It was one of the days that you were away. I was bored and I suppose I was just trying to come up with another explanation of alchemy. It failed, though," He said. Something like regret almost seemed to color his tone, placing Ed instantly back on edge. "Too many variables... and most of it only makes sense if you don't know the things that we do."

The last part was added almost jokingly, and Ed found himself wanting to believe Al. Quietly, he looked over the paper again. It was well-written, almost too well written, but Al had always been smart. It was also very persuasive. "This is a dangerous document," he said after a long silence, "Take care that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands." He held it out for Al to take.

Something like relief colored Al's gaze, and as he took the paper back the young alchemist smiled to reassure his brother. "Don't worry, Ed. I'm mostly just keeping it for the sake of records."

Ed smiled, shaking away any lingering doubts. "Like I said, just be careful with it."

Silence hung between them, and Edward suddenly became aware of a wide gulf between them. Despite the fact that Alphonse stood only a couple feet away, there was a kind of deliberate distance between the two of them.

Al finished gathering his papers and stood. "So, how did the debriefing go?"

"As well as you could expect," Edward responded with a tired grin.

Al laughed in response. "Which is to say not well at all."

Ed could only shake his head and he bent over to help Al organize his papers, studiously avoiding study of their contents. After the twisted logic of the first paper he wasn't sure that he wanted to know what else his brother had been dabbling in.

They worked in strained silence, shifting through what seemed like hundreds of papers. "You _have_ been busy, haven't you?" Ed wondered aloud at one point, watching his brother for a reaction.

Alphonse nodded. "It was my life's work," he said, "I've been writing down everything I can remember. Even things as distasteful as _that_." He motioned vaguely to the pile that Edward remembered him setting the paper from earlier in.

Edward felt a chill go down his spine, but he understood the need for such exercises in theory. Even when it couldn't be tested, alchemic theories were important. From the brief bit he had read Ed believed that Al was right-- it wouldn't have worked. Still, there was something niggling in the back of his mind. Something important.

His concern must have shown on his face, because Al paused in his work. "Careful, Brother," he teased, "You wouldn't want to hurt yourself with all that deep thinking."

Edward smiled back and returned to sorting the papers, casting the worries from his mind. But despite Al's teasing tone, there was something behind the words that rang false, and Ed's worries didn't fully leave him, remaining in the rear of his mind. If asked, he could not have told anyone exactly what it as that worried him, but still it lingered, just out of reach.

* * *

It was some time before Alphonse managed to convince Ed to go to bed early rather than stay up with him. "You've just gotten out of the hospital," he said in exasperation. "You need your rest."

"You don't look so good yourself," Ed shot back. "I understand that you want to get it all rewritten before it fades, but what you've been doing to yourself isn't healthy!"

Al's patience snapped. "I'll do what I want. I'm not the one who was just released from hospital custody this morning."

"A month's difference doesn't matter. You need the rest as much as I do."

Al opened his mouth to retort, but found himself staring down into his brother's golden eyes. In them he saw honest concern, and the angry words died in his mouth, leaving behind a taste of ashes. With a sigh he looked away. "Alright. I'll come to bed in little bit."

Ed would not be moved. "No. You'll come to bed now."

Rubbing his temples to stave off a headache, Al nodded and followed his brother into the bedroom.

There were two beds, and Ed automatically slid into the one nearest the door while Al made his way to the one by the window and lay down. They left the door to the living rooms open. After a time, Al heard heard Ed's breathing give way to to the slow, even breaths of sleep. He waited a few minutes longer before sliding out of his covers and making his way into the main rooms.

Seating himself at the desk, he lit a lamp and put his head in his hands. He had known which paper Ed had picked up even as he was turning to see which one it was. It was one of his maddest ideas, written out hastily for the first time while Edward was out seeking employment one day, and burned just as quickly. He'd come upon the idea of using human sacrifice to preform Alchemy in the machine world, though of course the other world was not mentioned in his notes. As soon as he read over what he had written, however, he had found himself horrified, and had destroyed it. He had not dared to write it again, but the idea refused to leave his mind.

It was sick. It was sick in the same way that the creation of the Philosopher's Stone had been. The very idea made his stomach turn.

But it made sense. And that was the worst part of it. The deaths in the Machine World were the only reason that alchemy existed in Amestris, after all. The death-energy fueled alchemical reaction. That same death-energy was found in the Philosopher's stone. All the power that their lives granted them was fused into a small stone that allowed a person to completely bypass the laws of Equivalent Exchange. Eckhart had used the death and blood of Honenheim and Envy to fuel the reaction that opened the Gate between the Machine World and Amestris, allowing entire ships to be sent through.

And now it wasn't a theory anymore. Now he _knew_ it was real.

Al fought back nausea. In his mind's eye he could see the facility where he and Ed had been held and interrogated. The faces of every person he had seen in the compound flashed before him, both soldiers and fellow prisoners. He gritted his teeth, because he knew that all of them were dead. Dead like the people in Lior.

And it was all his fault.

His shoulders shook, and he found himself sobbing over the blasphemous papers.

Golden eyes watched from the doorway.

* * *

_** Author's Note:** Yes, I know. This is far later than I promised. Still, it's here. I've finally gotten some inspiration after long weeks of searching, but I still need to take a step back. I'm having just a little trouble remembering who I'm writing about. Somewhere along the way I lost sight of my goal. It's coming into sight again, but the view is hazy. Posting may be sporadic._


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